


Innocent Danger

by OmniGamer



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, super fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-02-15 22:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13040577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniGamer/pseuds/OmniGamer
Summary: Mephala is the Daedric Prince of Lies and Secrets. Her sphere is lies, sex, murder, secrets, and plots. When a young Bosmer with an interest in none of these (much to her frustration) finds one of her abandoned shrines, he inadvertently catches her attention in the process.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Should I be starting a new series when I haven't finished the last thing... probably not. Oh well XD

The copper-skinned Bosmer stretched out for his next handhold in the sheer rock face, grunting with his cloth-wrapped fingers wiggling. The squirrel perched atop his head chittered nervously at each unsteady attempt he made when reaching upward. Eventually, a handhold passed the brown-furred rodent's approval and he was able to haul himself higher.

"We're almost to the top, Squeeck. And, you thought this would be a bad idea."

The squirrel was quiet, clinging tightly to one of his antler-like horns that protruded from his forehead and swept back over his mess of auburn hair.

Aemar glanced up and saw what Squeeck was worried about: he'd have to jump for the next handhold, his less-than-average-height rearing its ugly head again. "No problem. We've dealt with worse," he tried to assure the squirrel.

Squeeck wasn't as sure and her bushy tail brushed by his pointed ear more than once in its twitching.

 _Well, he's come too far to turn around now…_ His sinewy legs tensed for a moment before he threw himself up the grey cliff wall.

Feet and hands scrambled for purchase among the rough stone and scraggly roots, but he managed to find something that didn't crumble away under his weight. He sighed out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, and Squeeck was similarly relieved. "See? No prob-" His words were suddenly cut off as the old root he had been hanging onto gave way in a cloud of loose gravel. "Whoa!" Panicked arms went wide, and he reached out desperate for anything that would catch him.

A tangled mass of vines proved to be his savior, his fingers catching enough of them to support his meager weight. Aemar laughed wearily, still clutching tight. "That was close."

Squeeck had hunkered low on the back of his head, her tail wrapped like a fancy scarf around his neck. He wanted to reach around and reassure her, but Aemar also didn’t want to risk losing his precarious position. Instead, he focused on climbing the rest of the way up, the vines proving to be a reliable enough rope.

With no further missteps, Aemar reached the top in fairly good time.

“Made it.” He was panting a bit, but beyond a few minor scrapes and bruises, he was no worse for wear. “And you had doubts.”

She chirped sulkily at him before ducking into the small pouch strapped across his back, her back-end poking out as she struggled to find room amid the acorns, loose coins, charcoal sticks, and a worn sketchbook. A few kicks from her hind legs and she managed to pull her entire body into its depths.

He smiled warmly and let out a small sigh. Even though he had climbed up to catch a different vantage point of the lush green valley below, he wasn’t about to risk getting bitten to try and pull out his sketching supplies. He would have to wait for Squeeck to be in a more agreeable mood, as the near-death experience hadn’t endeared her to justifying the treacherous climb up.

 _It was a pleasant view though,_ he mused as his linen-bound feet scuffed along the moss. It didn’t take long before he was bored enough to start poking around the brush for anything interesting.

Eventually, he did find something: a shrine – old and abandoned, forgotten by the world that had grown around it.

“Such a shame,” he mumbled, admiring the craftsmanship as he pulled the crawling ivy from the statue. Several spiders scurried panicked from the mass he had pulled away, each crawling to find some new crevice to hide in. “Oops, sorry.” Suddenly, he felt bad, though he did still want to see what the statue looked like underneath all the growth.

With more care, he tried again; being more mindful of the occupants he was disturbing.

****

“There we go.” It had taken some time, especially with how large it ended up being, but eventually, he managed to fully reveal the figure hidden underneath.

It was of a woman, striking in appearance, veiled in what appeared to fine fabrics and expensive jewelry. An ornate crown decorated her head, and for a moment Aemar wondered if she had been royalty.

“What do you think, Squeeck?” he asked as he rubbed dirt from his hands.

Some time during his cleaning, Squeeck had somewhat forgiven him and had climbed back to his shoulder. She groomed out a few whiskers, not giving the figure more than a quick glance, her tail tickling the back of his neck.

“Not something to eat, huh?” He reached up and gave her a quick scratch between the ears, which she leaned into appreciatively. “Hmmm.” His face scrunched up as he thought.

 _It’s missing something_ …

Aemar stepped back a few steps and held up his hands to frame the sight before him, his nose scrunching up as he tilted his head to the side to get a different angle. He took in the appearance of the woman again, of her stern expression, of the cold hard stone she had been carved out of. His hands fell away.

_She’d look better with a smile._

“Do you think she’s lonely out here on her own?”

Squeeck, being still incapable of speech, offered no answer; though, she did seem to be contemplating his words with the slight tilt of her own head.

“I’d be lonely out here on my own…” He frowned once more and plopped down cross-legged. His expression shifted to something softer as he pulled out his sketchbook and charcoal.

Within minutes his hands were black, stained by charcoal as he worked to record the figure’s image onto paper. When he started sketching out the engraving carved along the statue’s base he paused. Despite how much Gramps had tried to get him to read, he still wasn’t very good at it – only able to make out the first two letters. “M. E. Mi…?” Aemar frowned again, but despite further attempts, he just couldn’t recognize the next letters. He sighed, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. _Who needed the other letters anyway?_ With quick strokes of the charcoal stick, he had repeated the two letters. “Mimi.” His grin grew brighter as he said the name out loud, his dark, almond-shaped eyes turning back to the stone woman. “Nice to meet you, Mimi. I’m Aemar and this lovely little lady-”

Squeeck looked up briefly from the acorn she had rummaged from his pack, though the squirrel still had little interest in the woman.

“Is Squeeck. How are you this fine evening?”

The statue didn’t respond – not that he was expecting it to. _Still, after how well she posed for him, it was only right to be polite._

He yawned lightly as his stomach rumbled. “Well, that’s it for today…” He snapped his sketchbook closed. “Come on, Squeeck. Gramps’ probably worried about us.”

The squirrel bounded back up to his shoulder, nattering loudly in his ear.

“Fine, fine, we’ll try to find a safer way down.” Aemar turned back once more to the statue. “See you tomorrow, Mimi.”

* * *

The Daedric Prince of Lies had more than enough shrines dedicated to her, so when one or two grew abandoned, it was merely an annoyance. But, when one of these shrines suddenly had an audience, it was more than enough to draw her fickle attention back to it.

“Do you think she’s lonely out here on her own?”

_Of course not. It wasn’t like she was limited to that shrine exclusively. If anything, she had forgotten that particular one in Grahtwood even existed…_

“I’d be lonely out here on my own…”

Mephala wanted to sigh. _Of course, it had been one of Sheogorath’s that had found the shrine. The damned fool was talking to a squirrel._ _Though…_ _The Bosmer didn’t act much like one of Sheogorath’s_ … She watched the mortal for several more moments; her interest steadily dwindling as he promptly sat cross-legged and pulled out a ratty-old book – its pages barely holding together. The short piece of black charcoal reignited her attention though. _An artist?_ She supposed it could have been worse.

With a subtle gesture, she ushered her spiderlings forward to investigate his progress. Mephala was a curious creature after all, and when she was the subject of attention, it made her all the more eager for the spoils.

_Only…_

When one of her spiders got close enough to take a peek, her sight was cut off. Though, more like the Bosmer’s pet saw the creeping movement and promptly ate the spider. Frustratingly, the little artist remained completely oblivious to his menace of a rodent, his focus completely on the picture he was bent over as his face scrunched with concentration.

_She hoped the thing would get a stomach ache…_

From her limited vantage point, she watched as a smile replaced the monetary one of frustration on his young looking face. He mumbled something under his breath, the page he had been pouring over still frustratingly out of sight thanks to the Bosmer’s vermin keeping away her other eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Mimi.”

 _Mimi?!?!_ Her thoughts spluttered, and she missed the rest of what the Bosmer had been saying as he began packing up. Of all the things she has been called, Mephala has never been called something so… _adorable._

“See you tomorrow, Mimi.”

_Very well… She had yet to see what he had managed to draw anyway… and the distraction was proving to be mildly interesting at the very least._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aemar is a result of me talking with Skitamine as to what sort of character would get Mephala all a fluster because none of her usual charms work... so I guess he's kinda her character as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not yet beta read...

The rain pelted his small body, but no one would stop for an urchin like him. 

He hugged his knees tighter, trying to keep at least some part of him dry as he sat shivering under the awning of the town’s general store. The young Bosmer got a few disgusted looks from passersby, but no one was cruel enough to tell the store owner that he had parked himself near the entrance again.  _ At least, not yet. _

“Hey, kid.”

He looked up, his dark gaze spying a hulking Redguard.

“Where’s yer parents?”

The young Bosmer looked away and pulled himself smaller hoping the man would go away and leave him in peace.

The Redguard sighed deeply, his grey, braided beard bouncing slightly on his chest. The dark-skinned man moved past him, and walked into the general shop.

A round of shouting started almost immediately, and soon the Redguard was coming back out a scowl on his aged face. He stopped again in front of the small Bosmer. “Get up,” the man commanded, but he didn’t make a move, just pretended he hadn’t heard.

The man scowled and gave a curse to the sky. With swift movements, he picked up the boy by the scruff of his tunic and swung him over a large shoulder.

The young Bosmer squirmed and kicked, but no one was going to interfere. 

_ They never did. _

****

“Eat,” the Redguard pushed a bowl of weak soup in front of his nose. Its contents sloshed up the sides, spilling a little of the watery broth onto the wooden table.

He cast a quick glance at the man and sniffed its content tentatively.

“No plants in there, if that’s what you’re worried about. Caught a deer this morning, figured you could help me finish eating it. Hate for good meat to go to waste.”

He looked at the man blankly.

“You know, ‘cause of the Green Pact…”

Again, the Bosmer could only look blankly.

The man sighed and fell heavily into the chair opposite with a loud ‘wuff’. “So how long have you been alone?”

The young Bosmer’s gaze fell to the table, but his hands were still wrapped tightly around the warm bowl he had been gifted.

He could hear the floor creak as the Redguard leaned back on the chair, meaty arms crossed over his barreled chest. “That long, huh? Well, I guess that explains a few things…” The Bosmer flinched as large boots thudded against the table top, the old Redguard relaxing fully to the comfort of the nearby roaring fire. “Well, go on then. These old ears can hear yer belly growlin’ from here.”

Hesitantly, his gaze moved between the strange Redguard to the soup before him. When it became clear that the man wasn’t about to take the food from him, he was upon it with a viciousness.

Thin calloused fingers dug into the soup pulling large meaty chunks from the weak broth. It was hot, near scalding, but his stomach didn’t seem to care.

Water started welling in his eyes, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from the soup burning his frigid fingers, or the alien kindness he was shown as the venison settled into his belly, filling it finally.

“For goodness sake, kid. Use a spoon,” said the Redguard sternly. He must have noticed the Bosmer’s scalded fingers. “Didn’t yer parents teach you anything?”

The young Bosmer felt the tears swell further, choking him, and soon the droplets fell from his almond-shaped eyes. He sniffed loudly to try and hold them back. 

Not that he was very successful.

“Aww, shit kid…” Suddenly, the man stood up and crossed the short distance between them. His arms spread and soon the Bosmer was trapped in a surprisingly gentle embrace. The comfort was so foreign; it unleashed another bout of tears. “Shhh… shh… It’s okay… I got you. It’s gonna be okay.”

****

“Aemar! Come down here. You’re gonna break yer neck, you stupid git!” Gramps hollered up at him.

The young Bosmer grinned as the Redguard stomped up to the base of the tree he had been climbing. “Oh, come on, Gramps. I’ve climbed this tree plenty of times before.”

“And every time you give me a damned heart attack. You wanna see this old man kick the bucket early?” 

“Nooo,” Aemar sulked, climbing down slowly, balancing the nest he had found between his horns.

“What in Oblivion do you have on your head, kid?”

“Uhh… a squirrel nest?”

“I have eyes, Aemar. Why is it on yer head?”

“I think their parents are gone,” answered Aemar shyly.

“Their…” Gramps sucked air in between his teeth harshly. “Look, Aemar you can’t just go picking up strays… it’s not the way of things… you gotta let it turn out like fate intended…”

Aemar cautiously removed the nest from his auburn hair, and looked at the small, blind creatures forlornly. “But you picked me up…”

Gramps grimaced and ran a hand over his bald head. “That was…” He sighed. “Just put it back where you found it. I got some fresh milk from the market; maybe you can feed them some of that… with luck their parents aren’t gone, just caught up with some squirrel business.”

****

Regardless of how often Aemar went to check on the squirming bunch of youngsters, the mother had never returned.

Gramps always remained below, and tired of yelling up at him every time, relented and built a rope ladder of bone and braided sinew – determined to try and encourage Aemar’s inherent culture in the place of his missing parents, though personally Aemar saw the Redguard more as his real folks than anything.

“Gramps!?” Aemar hollered down from where he was perched in the tree, his eyes refusing to leave the nest.

“What is it?” The elder Redguard’s voice didn't share the same urgency.

"I think something's wrong?"

"Wrong? Wrong how?"

"I'm not sure. Can you come look?"

There was a long pause, then there came a low groan as Gramps pulled himself away from the old rocking chair. 

Aemar felt the tree shake shortly after as Gramps proceeded to climb the ladder to join him. 

“Well? What is it?”

“That one…” Aemar pointed. “It’s not looking so good.”

Gramps took a moment to think like he always did, a large hand coming up to smooth through his beard. He contemplated the small grey bundle of skin and short fuzz, his expression growing grim. “It’s a runt. Doubt it’ll make it past the season.”

Aemar frowned, but not in anger. He didn’t think that was very fair to say, and he doubted that the creature wouldn’t make it just because it was small - he was small after all and was doing just fine. “Whisker is going to make it,” he proclaimed loudly.

“You named it?” Gramps shook his shaggy mane of grey hair. “Kid… that’s how you get attached to things. You gotta be prepared for the inevitable…”

****

Everyday Aemar climbed up to check on Whisker, and everyday Whisker seemed to be holding on. Sometimes just barely, but come daybreak she would still be wriggling with her siblings when Aemar came to feed them. That particular morning they had run out of milk for the youngsters, and Aemar took the trekk to the wild herd of Timber Mammoths that roamed the edges of Greenshade.

With a goat skim brimming with warm milk, he slung the watertight bag over his shoulder. “Thanks again,” he said giving the cow a pat on the flank. She huffed a response, her trunk curling around her calf who had been patiently waiting for the elf to finish.

The grey clouds rumbled overhead, drawing his attention to the sky. The first light plip of rain smacked against his copper skin and he knew he had to be heading back.

He jumped at the first arc of light streaking across the sky. The wind had picked up and he hugged his arms for warmth, rubbing his hands up and down. Aemar was wet, but not yet soaking, finding the occasional shelter under trees to hide when the storm momentarily grew worse.

****

“Gramps?” He had made it back home, but the cabin door had been knocked open - hopefully only by the wind. Finding not even a candle lit inside, Aemar called again. “Gramps?”

The shape on the floor moved.

“Gramps!” Aemar ran towards the fallen Redguard. “Gramps!” He shook the large shoulder, not getting the usual drunken response for such a state.

A large hand clamped down on his shoulder. “I can hear you just fine boy… Just… tripped. I’ll be better after a little nap.” Gramps’ hesitation was enough to make Aemar doubt.

“Hm.” He nodded anyway and helped the old Redguard to his feet. A few tottering steps - Aemar carrying as much of Gramps’ weight as his sinewy muscles could allow - and they had gotten him back to his bed.

“Tha’s better,” sighed out Gramps, tugging the worn fur over his stomach. 

_ He didn’t look any better… _

“I- I can get a healer,” Aemar blurted out, the thought bouncing around his head. 

Gramps grabbed his hand, giving it a few quick squeezes. “It’s fine. Just got a few more things to deal with in my old age.”

“Why were you on the floor?”

The Redguard squeezed harder. “Like I told you. Tripped. Nothing to worry about. Now, did you feed those squirrels of yours?”

Aemar shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Then git. You still have chores to do.”

Still frowning, he went outside.

With a continued worry, he climbed up to the young squirrels tucked away amid thick leaves and branches to hide them from the rain.

They chirped and mewled for him, and the nozzle of fresh milk he offered. The young drank greedily, the creamy mammoth milk dripping from their fuzzy chins. Even Whisker - despite being jostled and shoved to the back by the others.

It was enough to make him smile again, but not enough to erase the worry from his mind.

He glanced to the small cabin.

_ It’ll only take a little while… _

****

Aemar was out of breath when he made it to the closest town.

The streets deserted as the people had ducked into shelter, likely disappearing at the first few drops of rain.

He pounded on the first door he came across, his knuckles trembling uncontrollably from the cold that had seeped into his bones.

When the door opened, a sharp nose glared down at him. “What do you want?”

“I need help. Gramps is… Gramps is…” His words failed him as he had forgotten how uncaring someone could be to his plight.

The hawkish eyes narrowed. “Well, it’s obviously not that important if you can’t just come out and say it.”

His eyes shot up. “Bu-” The door slammed back in his face. He hesitated to knock again, but ultimately decided against, instead heading towards the next house.

No one was home at the second one, and the third door slammed closed before he could explain himself.

“Please, someone,” Aemar begged. Collapsing to the cobblestone, tired and weary from the cold and rain, and disappointment. “Someone please help Gramps…” 

_ But no one did, and he knew he had taken too long.  _

With his feet leaden with sorrow, Aemar trudged back to Gramps’ cabin. The tree root, he always tripped on, was no more forgiving than when he first arrived, and he fell, landing hard on his nose. 

Already having had his fill of frustration, Aemar curled on himself, the rain making the path slick with mud and soaking into the rough material of his tunic.

He laid there for who knows how long, tears and mud streaking his copper-toned face as the rain relentlessly beat down on him. Then he heard a weakened series of small chirps: small, desperate cries amid the rolling thunder.

Aemar turned his gaze from the mud and saw a nest not far away –  _ the squirrel nest he had found with Gramps. _ It lay broken and scattered, the gale having claimed it in his absence.  _ Only a single fragile creature had survived the fall. _ He took up the small greyish thing into his hands, cradling it carefully, despite how his hands shook. 

Surprisingly, it had been Whisker; the runt Gramps had said wouldn’t make it past a week.

“It’s okay… I got you.”  Aemar assured the small thing, rubbing a thumb over the short fur that stippled its head. “It’s gonna be okay…” He curled around the squirrel pup, protecting it from the lashing rain. “It’s gonna be okay…”

****

“I’m back, Gramps.” Aemar approached the large graht-oak, slowly removing the small pouch from along his back. The tree had grown again, and even more since he had watched it first sprout. “Sorry it’s been so long… you know me, always getting caught up daydreaming.”

The squirrel perched along his shoulder scented the air as the wind picked up slightly, bringing with it the scent of flowers. Several short barks announced their presence and Squeeck jumped from his shoulder to scramble up the graht-oak’s rough bark to join the large family of squirrels that resided in its boughs.

“Saw some pretty neat things-” The Bosmer paused momentarily to rummage through his bag to pull out an old sketchbook, and flipped to the newest of his drawings. “See? Opps… that’s another picture of Squeeck, you know one of Whisker’s great, great, great, grandpups.” He smiled, embarrassed, and flipped past the next few pages of squirrels. 

The next pages were filled with of manner of plants, and odd structures – all found on his many outings, and the most recent of the cliff-face and what was up at the top.

Sheepishly, Aemar scratched the back of his head. “You’d probably scold me again for being reckless… but I really wanted you to see what was up there.” Aemar flipped through the next few pages slowly, stopping at each to show to the tree. 

Eventually, he reached a sketch of a woman in regal dress and a stern expression he had managed to soften in his sketching. “Found a shrine of sorts over in the cliffs. Couldn’t read the inscription…” Finished for now, he closed the sketchbook carefully and stored it back in his bag. “The lady was really pretty though…”


End file.
